Fur Coats and Dragon's Breath
by Dark Knight HQ
Summary: The King in the North. The Queen across the Narrow Sea. What could possibly go wrong? AU.
1. Chapter 1

_I genuinely can't believe I've not written anything on this site for two years, hopefully it won't be that long again. During that time I managed to watch Game of Thrones seasons 1-7 and watched season 8 as it was released. I'm not going into what I exactly thought about it because we'll be here all year so I'll leave it as it was utter shit. I wasn't someone who really shipped Dany and Jon (mostly because Jon Snow has the personality of a teaspoon) but I've also been a massive Robb Stark fan, minus when he betrayed his kingdom and bannermen by marrying some random girl, and I always wondered what it would be like if he hadn't married said random girl and I genuinely think his storyline would have led him to a similar path to Jon's once he (Jon) became King in the North, including the business about falling in love with Daenerys (probably not killing her though because that was just crap writing.)_

_So I had a look around and it seems like quite a few people ship Robb and Dany but there are very few fanfictions about them, so I decided to write my own. This one is just a series of one shots based off of prompts I found on Tumblr, Pintrest, etc, but I also have two proper stories in the works and an idea for a third, so keep an eye out. Obviously this is all AU._

**OoOoO**

**Prompt: "Teach me"**

Watching Robb fight was like nothing Daenerys had ever seen. He relied much less on brute strength than the Dothraki fighters, although he could not be much weaker than Drogo had been, while fighting with much less rigid precision than her Unsullied army, using instinct and skill to land impressive blows on his half-brother. She wondered if it might be a style of fighting common in Westeros, since Ser Jorah and the Snow boy in front of her used similar tactics.

As she watched them, it became increasingly difficult to ignore Robb's clothing - or, rather, the lack of it. Unlike Jon Snow, he chose to practice only half dressed, giving Dany much more of a view than she was used to when watching soldiers train. _Not that I'm complaining,_ she thought with a small smirk.

It was unfortunate for Dany that Jon chose that moment to finally see her standing a little way away from them, and he immediately dropped his sword and bowed as Daenerys, realising leaving was futile, came over. Robb looked around in confusion before his blue eyes found her violet ones. "Daenerys?"

Jon coughed as he glanced at his brother and Robb quickly realised his mistake, but Daenerys held up a hand to stop him from correcting it. "I think we can disregard titles now. You are a King too after all." She glanced at Jon, who deliberately avoided her gaze, choosing instead to inspect his sword for any marks or scuffs. "Lord Snow, I wondered if I could have a moment with your brother? I'm sorry for disturbing you, it won't be for long."

He looked back up at her in surprise, before quickly making his exit, muttering a goodbye to Jon as he left as hastily as he could manage. Dany watched him leave in slight confusion, forehead scrunched in a light frown.

"He doesn't know how to act around you." Robb chuckled quietly from behind her. He sat on a tree stump and gestured for her to do the same, even though they both know she would remain standing. "He's not used to pretty ladies giving him the time of the day - or pretty queens."

"Is that so?" Dany mused, hoping a blush had not stained her cheeks as she directed her gaze away from his still-naked chest. "I'm not sure why, he is an attractive man and the son of Ned Stark, ladies could do much worse."

To her surprise, her words were met with a deep frown as the King in the North stood quickly. Seeing him prepare to leave panicked her for some reason, and Daenerys fought to remember what she had wanted to ask him. "You're a very good fighter, how did you learn?"

It did the trick; though the anger (she dared not imagine it to be jealousy) had not disappeared from his face, he turned back around to her and placed his sword on the ground. "My father taught me, Your Grace, and I trained with Jon and Theon. The North has good fighters, 'specially when there's something to fight for." There was pride in his thick, Northern accent as he spoke of his people, the ones who now rallied behind their King.

"It must have been nice." Dany sighed lightly. "I wish I were of more use on a battlefield –" she threw Robb a look as he stifled a snort, no doubt thinking of her dragons – "but Grey Worm or any other Unsullied would never train me and I believe the Dothraki are too afraid of being fed to Drogon to try. I asked Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah three days ago – my only answer was that they would die for their Queen without question and I do not need to fight."

Robb nodded immediately. "They're right. I know it's not what you want to hear," he added quickly as her face darkened, "but you have tens of thousands of men who would die for you on a battlefield and would kill someone wanting to hurt you." He looked wary suddenly and stared at Dany intently. "Why are you talking to _me _about wanting to learn to fight?"

"Because-" Daenerys took a deep breath and willed herself to look straight into his eyes. "Because I'm asking you to teach me." She hoped she did not sound as childish to him as she did to herself.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?" Dany asked, trying to keep her temper in check.

Robb sat back down onto his tree stump, cracking his knuckles nonchalantly. "You heard me. I said I'm not teaching you."

"And why the fuck not?" Dany hissed, hands balled into fists at her sides. "Do you not think I can look after myself? I am not a little princess Stark, I do not want to need the protection of men for my whole life and it certainly will not be the first time someone has tried to kill me!"

"Is that what this is about?" When she only nodded, he was in front of her in seconds, his hands on her shoulders. "Daenerys you should know by now that protecting you is not a burden, just like the men who guard me see it as an honour. It's the same for me as Sansa asking to learn to fight, it's too dangerous. Not that she ever would, that girl was too busy playing princess to pick up a sword."

"But that's not me," Dany insisted. "I have always had to protect myself, since I was a little girl in Essos – Gods know that Viserys was never concerned with my safety. I have never played princess or had knights guarding me day and night and I don't like it. That's not the kind of queen I want to be." Violet eyes met icy blue. "Teach me."

Robb sighed, rubbing his neck with a barely noticeable smirk. "Now you sound like Arya. I don't know why I'm surprised, that girl loved the Targaryen warrior queens she learnt about." His eyes clouded for a moment, and Dany promised herself that she would do everything in her power to return the little girl home. "Fine."

"You'll do it?" Dany asked in shock.

"Gods have mercy but yes I will, I you feel so strongly about this then I'm not enough of a fool to refuse it." He flashed her a quick – and incredibly attractive – smile, before he became solemn once again. "But I have two conditions. Firstly, you need to understand that I am not going to hurt you – I know you want thorough training but after I disarm you that's it, I won't allow you to get hurt." He shrugged as if it were of no importance, but his eyes did not leave hers for a moment; this was not something he would budge on.

Daenerys smiled. "That's reasonable enough I suppose. What is the other condition?"

"That you stop calling Jon attractive." Robb snorted. "I don't care what you think about him, keep it to yourself." His voice was light-hearted, but the slight tenseness in his shoulders told Daenerys he may have genuinely been bothered by her earlier remark. She nodded her agreement to his terms and Robb smiled again as he gathered his discarded clothing and sword. "Well, if that's all, Your Grace, I should be meeting with my advisors shortly, it seems the Lannisters brought more sellswords than we were expecting. When would you like to begin _training_?" He asked sarcastically.

Once arrangements had been made for them to meet the next day, Dany allowed him to walk a small way away before calling put to him. "Robb?"

He turned back to her, a question in his face, as she slowly began to smirk at him.

"In the future, I would advise against comparing your sister to the woman you are bedding. Sleep well."

**OoOoO**

_Hope you liked it, leave a review to let me know what you think, and feel free to send in any of your own ideas or prompts that you'd like me to have a go at. Until next time!_


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm trying to make these one shots quite quickly while still making them good, because my inspiration and motivation for writing can be annoyingly fleeting. (I'm aiming for one every two days but I know myself and that's woefully unrealistic) I've also discovered that they're great when I can't concentrate on my actual stories that I'm supposed to be writing, but hopefully they won't take too long until they're up, I'm just trying to have a few chapters complete before I publish._

_It is worth noting that these one shots follow no kind of chronological order so please don't confuse yourself by trying to create a mental timeline._

**OoOoO**

**Prompt: "You're beautiful, and I'm not the only one who thinks so"**

"Why are you not married, Lord Stark?"

_Still won't call me a king – or Robb_. The young man sighed, rubbing his face. "War is neither the time nor place for a marriage, Your Grace." At least, that had been what he had told Talisa. He grabbed a cup of wine from his table and stared at the women sitting across from him.

She was silent for a moment, as if unsure of whether she could ask her next question. "Do you prefer the company of men?"

Robb choked on his wine, spluttering and quickly wiping his clothes clean. "No, I definitely do not. In truth, the thought has never crossed my mind."

Daenerys smiled, taking a small gulp of her own wine. "I am told that Dorne is similar to Essos in their opinions of who beds who. For example," here she looked him straight in the eye, "in Essos a woman is not disowned or punished for bedding a man outside of marriage. It appears that the majority of Westeros does not share that belief."

"They definitely don't, you're right," Robb said immediately. "I'm not entirely sure about punishments from Lords or Kings, my father never mentioned punishing a woman for that, but most families disown a daughter if she is found or is with child." He stared at her suddenly as he realised why she had pointed this difference out. "Have you – "

"Yes." She answered without hesitation. "I had a lover in Meereen that I left behind to ensure that Slaver's Bay remains slavery-free in my absence. I also consummated my marriage, of course."

"You have a husband?" Robb asked in shock. _When I have a wife_, he thought_, I don't care if she's a warrior like Daenerys, I will never leave her alone in a battle._ There was a slight pang in his chest at the thought of another man holding her, kissing her, loving her.

"Had." Daenerys corrected, her smile faltering. "Khal Drogo died many moons ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Robb muttered, embarrassed at his assumptions. "If you don't mind my asking, how old were you?"

"I had just turned four-and-ten." Dany admitted with a small shrug. "He died within a year, and most of the Dothraki moved on since they only follow the strongest among them." Her voice took on a bitter edge. "They do not think of women who lose their babes as strong."

"You are strong." Robb said immediately, without thinking. When she looked up at him in surprise, he hastened to explain. "You must be. Not many people have attempted to conquer Westeros in the way you are. And I... I'm sorry, Your Grace, for your loss."

"The Dothraki worship the Great Stallion and believe that we live with him in the night sky once we leave this world. If the Gods have a shred of honour, Rhaego is riding with his father across the stars as we speak, and I will one day get to meet my son." She blinked quickly and, for a shadow of a second, Robb thought he saw a tear glisten at the corner of her violet eyes, but it was gone before he could be certain. "Anyway, I will need to begin considering potential husbands soon. When I claim the Iron Throne, I will need an heir, and a strong ally through marriage."

The King in the North snorted rather unceremoniously into his cup. "I can hardly see that being too much of a difficulty for you."

"And why is that?"

"You're beautiful." Robb answered truthfully with a smile and a slight shrug, wondering for the briefest of seconds if he could see a faint little blush rising on her cheeks. "And, since the whisperings of almost every man at my camp ring true, I hardly believe I am the only person who thinks such."

Daenerys smiled slightly. "Who in Westeros do you think would make an adequate candidate?"

Robb thought for a moment, surprised and – for reasons he did not wish to contemplate – rather irritated by her request. "There are nine houses that could provide suitable assets should you marry into them. Even with your family's past… practices, we can safely rule your own house out, as well as Joffrey _Baratheon _since, Gods be good, his head will rot on a spike before snow settles in King's Landing. House Tully is not one to be considered either – my mother's house," he explained at Daenerys' look of confusion. "There is no one who is not at least twenty years your senior and I swear to you by the Old Gods and the New that you do not want to marry any of my uncles." He smiled as she laughed warmly – it was a stark contrast to her normal icy composure, and he found himself wanting to hear it again. "There are many Lannisters of an appropriate age - "

"No." Daenerys interrupted coldly. "I will not marry into that family. I was sold into my marriage by a brother who would do any number of horrific acts for the Iron Throne and even he would never consider this. I will not marry into Tywin Lannister's dynasty while he draws the breaths used to command the Mountain to rape and murder Elia Martell with the blood of my niece and nephew still wet on his hands." Robb stared at her, transfixed as she sat before him in all her terrifying glory, the legacy of Targaryen conquerors wrapped around her like armour. _It is easier now to see, _Robb thought in awe, _how she liberated Slaver's Bay from the Masters._

"I… Forgive me, Your Grace, I forgot myself for a moment." At her nod and slightly more relaxed stance, he continued. "The only other Houses are Greyjoy – " although, if Dany's more than faintly sickened look was anything to by, Theon was not a contender – "Martell and Tyrell, since Jon and Lysa Arryn's son is too young. The last I heard of the Martells was that Doran Martell's youngest had become betrothed to Myrcella Baratheon, although even if you do not marry one of hid elder sons, Dorn will almost certainly ally themselves with you against the Lannisters. Prince Oberyn loved his sister more than anything." He couldn't help but think of his own sisters then, fierce Arya and gentle Sansa. Little Arya would've loved to meet a Targaryen like the ones of her childhood stories his father had tried to band, of fearsome queens conquering cities on their dragons; she would have been drawn to Dany immediately, Robb was certain of it. _I will find her,_ he promised himself. _I swear it by the Old Gods and the New, I will bring them both home._

Daenerys' voice shook him from his thoughts. "What about the Tyrells?" She asked, clearly unhappy with her current options.

"Ser Loras Tyrell is a very desired bachelor all around the Seven Kingdoms," Robb replied, "and House Tyrell is one of the wealthiest and most powerful so would make a good ally, although it is known Lady Olenna is the true ruler of that house and I imagine she would support your claim to the throne, although Lady Margaery's betrothal to Joffrey could cause complications there."

Daenerys leaned forward with interest. "What do you know of Ser Loras?"

"I only met him once, for one of King Robert's namedays a few years ago." At Dany's nod to continue, he grimaced slightly. "Never met a more pompous cunt in all of Westeros – my apologies, Your Grace, I misliked the man's fixed views on Northern men, he seemed greatly displeased that we were not the hulking, hairy beasts he had anticipated."

The Queen sat back again, clearly disappointed, and the King opposite her cleared his throat quietly. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I cannot help but point out that you should learn a kingdom before you attempt to conquer it, especially a place like Westeros. Learn the histories of each house, how they honour they alliances and the benefits of having their support. You will need them to favour you over the Lannisters if you want the Iron Throne."

"Mayhaps you are right, I will certainly consider your ideas. But you have made a mistake, for if I count correctly, I heard the values of only eight houses, not the nine that you mentioned." She stood suddenly, her dark red dress a dangerous contrast against the pale chest Robb attempted to pay as little attention to as possible. "You did not mention the house with the most loyal men at their service, who would fight to the death if so commanded. The house that rules over the largest land and can survive and thrive through the harshest of winters because the winter is in their blood, it is a part of them. The house whose lord has risen above all others to be crowned a king, the first in three hundred years. Most importantly, a house built on sacrifice and family, who would honour every oath taken and allegiance made. You have neglected to mention you own house, Lord Stark."

"Impossible," Robb rebutted instantly. "Bran is far too young, and Jon is a Snow, you cannot possibly explain the high lords to accept a queen who has a bastard ruling at her side – ". Understanding dawned in his eyes and he placed his cup before him, wine forgotten. "You didn't mean Bran or Jon did you?"

Dany laughed again, violet eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "No, Lord Stark. I meant you. I don't require an immediate answer," she said as he opened his mouth to speak. "I merely want you to consider the proposal so that we may revisit it after the war is won. We are agreeable to one another so I do not think the marriage would be a miserable one at all, and as two attractive adults I do not believe that making heirs would be cause for any discomfort. In all honesty Lord Stark, you speak terribly conservatively towards me for a man who has seen me nude on one occasion – and I am sure has imagined me so a great many more times." She raised an eyebrow teasingly as they both remembered the night she showed the men of Robb's army why she was known as the Unburnt, before turning to walk out of his tent.

Robb felt a blush crawling up his neck and hoped it was not visible. "I was under the impression that you considered a betrothal damaging to our alliance, since you have not so much called me by my name since your arrival."

She stood at the entrance to the tent, a smirk playing on her lips. "It is true, our alliance is a strong one, but I do believe that you and I could create a much stronger and equally successful bond. Have a good night Robb, you look as though rest would do you well."

**OoOoO**

_Ah, don't we love a strong woman in a patriarchal society in which the men she has known have treated her so badly that romance is basically non-existent? And I don't care what happened in season eight, no one will ever convince me that Arya would not have looked up to and liked Daenerys, they literally had an entire scene where Arya talks to Tywin about the female dragon riders who burned Harrenhal. Anywho, let me know what you think and feel free to leave me some requests (prompts, more drama, more action, more sex because it's Game of Thrones), I'm open to pretty much anything. Until next time!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Someone PMed me and asked me for this. Clearly, it is set much later than my last two._

**Prompt: The Iron Throne.**

"It is not as big as I expected it to be."

He looked down at her questioningly, before realising that, out of the two of them, he was the only one ever to see the Iron Throne before this day. "What did you imagine it to be like?"

"More swords, I suppose. I was very young when Viserys first described it to me. He told me it was made of one thousand swords, but what does one thousand look like to a little girl who could not count to 20?" She smiled almost nervously at him, as if unsure of her next move. Her hesitation made sense – so many years, so many battles and betrayals and _deaths_ that the idea of it coming to an end seemed almost unfathomable.

"You speak as though you are particularly large yourself, My Queen." Robb teased with a grin, and he was pleased to see she returned it easily. "Are you not going to sit on it?" The throne is yours, if it wasn't already by name it certainly is now by force." They could not hear the fighting any longer; the Lannisters had refused to surrender, and the resulting battle had been bloody.

"No."

He stared at her in shock. "Did I hear you correctly?" He hissed, grabbing her shoulders, though not at all roughly. "This is what you've fought for for years, what _we _fought for. You as Queen and freedom in the North, how can you allow that to go to waste?"

She finally looked up at him, and he was stunned to see tears in her violet eyes. "What you told me before the battle – did you mean it?" She stepped away from him, his arms falling away to his sides. "Before this battle, you told me that you love me – were you attempting to distract yourself from the possibility of finding Sansa, or were you sincere?"

Robb smiled gently, pulling her closer to him. "You know I do, I have for a long time. Mayhaps it is a fool's dream and it will no doubt end in my heartbreak, but yes, Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, I am in love with you." He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the faint smell of vanilla and smoke.

"You have missed out a title or two, I believe." Dany smiled faintly, but it did not reach her eyes. "Robb, I did not say 'no' because I have given up on my – on _our _dream. I do not wish to sit on the throne because I did not earn it alone and I never would have. You are my first ally and the only one I would ever entrust my life with. More than that, you are as much of a King as I am a Queen, and because of this I cannot accept the throne. It is no longer my right to rule the Six Kingdoms. It's ours."

He pulled back slightly to argue, but she cut him off instantly. "You are my King as I am your Queen, I will accept no other as a husband." She touched his cheek tenderly, pale hands somehow warm even as their breaths frosted in the air. "I want to build a new world, a better one. I want to do it together. I am tired of these high lords and their game of thrones, of a wheel constantly turning an crushing those beneath it. We break the wheel together."

Robb blinked quickly and swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed with her words, a smile beginning to hurt his cheeks. "I declared my sword to you five years ago and my heart followed soon after. Must I now share my crown with you also?"

Dany's laugh tinkered like bells as she drew him even closer. "Lord Stark." She whispered against his lips. "Warden of the North. King in the North. And, now, King of the Six Kingdoms." Her lips finally touched his in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening as Robb wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer than she thought possible.

And, five minutes later, as soldiers from various allied houses dragged themselves into the Throne Room, with Missandei, Catelyn and an overwhelmed Sansa Stark accompanying them, they entered in time to see a glimpse of the scene in front of them. Not one of blood and murder that had shadowed them for so long, but one of hope.

**OoOoO**

_I made it my personal quest to include as much from Dany and Jon's finally scene as I could, I'm surprisingly fond of this but I'm not sure if it might be slightly OOC? Let me know your thoughts and feel free to make any requests. Until next time! (This is becoming a catch phrase and I don't know how I feel about that.)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Quick note to anyone who prefers AO3 to FFN: I now also have an account on there, it is Dark_Knight_HQ (real original I know). Same stories and update times are used on that site, so it's up to everyone what they prefer._

_I did warn you that I take a long time to update._

**OoOoO**

**Prompt: Dancing**

She is the most beautiful dancer he has ever seen.

He knows she never learnt – her brother never bothered to ensure she learned the same skills as the women of Westeros – but that only serves to make her skill all the more impressive. She far outshines both Sansa and Margaery, women who have learnt these talents their whole lives, and, without meaning to, has left the entire courtyard staring at her in awe. She does not dance in the way they must at balls; she spins round and round on one leg, the other stretched out as her silver hair twirls around her, the most graceful little thing he has ever seen. She does not stop when she sees him, as he expects her to; instead, she runs straight to him and gives him her pleading look that the beautiful devil knows he cannot resist and holds her hand out for him to take.

And, seven hells, the woman makes him _dance with her._

He is far less fond of her other style of dance, though she is no less beautiful when performing. Arya adores her for it, can barely hide her grin whenever she sees the flash of armour and glint of silver hair. The dance of steel is a dangerous one and she is disadvantaged by her size and lack of experience. Little though she may be, however, she is perhaps the most fearsome fighter he has ever seen, remaining unbeaten against the likes of Theon and Dacey Mormont. She begs him to let her fight the Kingslayer, Sandor Clegane and Oberyn Martell, men he believes would never think twice about hurting her – everyone tells him he is paranoid, that all three men have grown to care for her in their own strange ways, but he cannot allow it. He very nearly had Tyrion Lannister thrown into jail for suggesting that the _Young Wolf_ himself should train her; she had not let the idea go for months, growing more and more irritated at his pathetic excuses not to spar with her. Instead, he stands to the side and watches, ready to cut the throat of any man who dares do her harm. It has never happened, but Robb stays rooted to the spot for one reason – _it could._

Yet, somehow, that is not his least favourite dance of hers.

She has the most captivating looks of any woman in all Seven Kingdoms, and a kindness and wit that are even more rare. Every other girl pales in comparison, and he has heard tales of men offering her riches beyond reason and promise to leave their wives if she will have them – letters sent with requests that they be hidden from his eyes, since the Young Wolf is known for his fierce protection of her. He cannot blame her, but he despises the way she dances around the mind of every man she meets, her image impossible to shake from their brains. He cannot help but lose his temper when he sees a man being far too friendly with her – though, as she is always keen to remind him, she is not his by blood nor marriage, and so cannot be angry at the men for pursuing her. She ignores any of his frustrated comments that he has now asked her seven times to marry him and she has refused each time, though it is clear she has loved him for approaching six years. He has made love to her and fought with her and ruled by her side; it is known that she is his in all but name, yet her reluctance to part with her family name allows her to continue dancing in the minds of men who desire her.

_Although, _Robb thinks as Dany moves her body in ways he did not think possible under their sheets, _perhaps all that dancing benefits me after all._

**OoOoO**

_Short but sweet? Let me know what you think, until next time! (I'm embracing the catchphrase now.)_


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm sorry it's so short! In truth I've been way too distracted to be writing, GCSE results come out in less than twelve hours and I am STRESSING! Anyway, enjoy - the next update will be Saturday._

**OoOoO**

**Prompt: Murder**

She knows that it is hypocritical, to see him as a killer.

By her own logic, she herself is one, for Drogon has killed many men who have dishonoured or betrayed her. Daenerys is the Blood of the Dragon, and not so naïve that she is unaware of the role murder plays in their game of thrones.

Yet, somehow, it's different when it's him, swinging his own sword; she cannot reconcile this violent image before her with the one from only last night, of his arms wrapped tightly around her and his kisses littering her face as she laughs at his childish games. Perhaps those are the games that made her believe he was different, less immune to the death she is now so accustomed to and hands free of the blood that hers are drenched in, and it is only the hope that _he can still be different _that allows her to listen to his whispered apologies for taking the traitor's head and stories of his father's teachings that she cannot bring herself to hold in high regard as her husband does. She lets him touch her, if only to achieve the desired closeness as his hands tangle in her hair and his lips close around her breast; and, for a fleeting second, the image of his bloody sword and terrifying glare is erased from her mind. She knows she is foolish to hope it will last.

She wonders if the Kingslayer looked the same when he murdered her father. Did his sword drip crimson? Did his chest heave under the weight of taking the life of another with his own hands? Though she is under no allusions as to her father's actions as King, she cannot bring herself to feel anything but disgust for the lion who remains far too close for her comfort, teeth bared despite his chains.

She tries not to dwell on the look in his eyes – though of course she fails. It is one she has seen many times – her first husband had a typically Dothraki love of killing, both enemies and his own people, and Viserys had lusted for blood as the Mad King had before him. In her time in both Essos and Westeros since then, she had learnt that all men share the same bloodlust, the same desire to see the life drain from another's eyes, and though she is still pressed against her husband's chest, she cannot help but feel cold.

Perhaps Robb Stark is not as different as she hoped.

**OoOoO**

_Hope you liked it despite the shortness! Keep your fingers crossed for me please, and until next time!_


	6. Chapter 6

_I am so sorry it's been so long – it's been so hectic with my GCSE results and starting A Levels next week (luckily everything went well.) I have a few more in the works, so the wait should be a lot amller after this, and I have two proper fanfics I'm writing too, but I want at least 10 chapters written before I publish them._

**Prompt: Warmth**

Though he would never admit it, Robb had always been an affectionate man and, despite the war raging around him, he remained the same. It was one of the things he missed most about Winterfell; being loving with his family had made him happier than he had realised. Whether it was swinging his youngest three siblings in the air through the halls of their home or holding Sansa as she cried about something _unkind_ – and Robb used that word very loosely – that Arya or Theon had said to her. He was a family man through and through, his love for his family being possibly the only thing to come more naturally to him than battle.

His new wife was the exact opposite of that. Perhaps the iciest woman the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen, she kept mostly to herself, other than to consult with him and his men on plans for battle. Though he knew uncomfortably little of her childhood, he understood that it had been a lonely one, with Viserys taking on the role of her owner rather than brother. She had begun to warm to him ever so slightly; she now returned his warm smiles with a confused yet genuine one of her own and had allowed him to dance with her several times during his uncle's wedding, and even looked to be enjoying herself. Overall, however, her demeanor had remained frosty, leaving him with the strong opinion that she detested him.

Which is why it came as such a shock when, during the night, he felt his wife's small hands against his back. "Robb." She murmured sleepily, and he turned to see her violet eyes still closed and her small hands holding his undershirt. "Turn over." Robb did as she asked, turning to face Daenerys, the dim candlelight making her more beautiful than ever before.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm cold." She mumbled and Robb rolled his eyes in irritation. _Of course she's waking you up to complain – what else did you expect? _Eager to return to sleep, he asked if she wished for more furs to be brought.

"No." To Robb's disbelief, Daenerys Targaryen Stark, the wife he had still not bedded six moons after their wedding, shuffled closer until her tiny body was against his own, her head nestling into his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his torso. "You're warm." Before he could respond, her breathing slowed and the Queen in the North was asleep.

Careful not to disturb her sleep, Robb shifted more comfortably in their blankets and hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, drawing her even closer to his much larger body and smiling down at her. He had almost forgotten how it felt to hold someone, to protect them; it had been so long since he had seen his sisters and he had never wished to cuddle with Talisa after they were intimate. He pressed a kiss to his Queen's forehead and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to take him.

She had woken him as soon as she found herself buried within his chest, hissing at him to release her before someone came and _saw them_, as though they were an unmarried couple making love. Robb ignored her and pressed a kiss against her soft lips before letting her go with a smile, laughing at her reddened cheeks as she stumbled out of bed.

**OoOoO**

"Robb, Lord Bolton wants to discuss – _oh!_" Robb looked up to see his petite wife, the very woman he had been thinking about, staring at him, or – more precisely – staring at what was in his hand.

In the three moons since she had first curled against him in their bed, the had spent every night in the same manner, and they had finally consummated the marriage. Though he had bedded her only once, their relationship had dramatically improved, to the degree that Robb so longer changed clothes only in Daenerys' absence. She would deny it until she became blue in the face, but many times he had seen her eyes fixed on his chest as he trained with Theon, and her gaze had been drawn a little _lower _as he got dressed, privacy all but forgotten.

_She's certainly having trouble drawing her eyes away now,_ Robb quipped to himself as his wife continued to open stare at his cock, still erect from the attention he had given it. "Are you well, My Queen?" he asked teasingly, her gaze finally meeting his. "You've seen it before, if I remember correctly."

She rolled her eyes slightly at him and untucked a strand of hair from behind her ear, though it did not hide her slight blush from her husband, whose grin only widened. "You do remember correctly, I'm glad to learn I have married such a sentimental man." Without warning, Robb reached for her wrist and pulled her to him; she landed on top of hm with a small thump and a gasp.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk far too much?" He murmured, eyeing the low neckline of her dress unapologetically. "There's so many more interesting things we could be doing than_ talking." _As if to prove his point, he lowered his head and smirked against her throat, enjoying her quiet moan as his teeth grazed her pale skin.

"We have –"Daenerys paused for a moment as his hand slid beneath her skirt, her husband's calloused fingers rough against her smooth legs. She continued after a moment, her voice a fraction higher and slightly breathy. "We have a war to plan, this can wait."

Robb bit down on her neck again – harder this time, and her resulting moan sent a bolt of arousal through him. "No, it can't wait." He allowed himself a moment to savour an even louder moan from her as he gripped her thigh roughly. "_I can't wait."_ He breathed against her ear, his other hand loosening her dress from the back with practiced ease.

"It's the middle of the day Robb, we have work to do." Her words were meaningless to Robb, who could only focus on her heaving chest and the increasing wetness between her legs. "People are going to begin wondering where we are."

"Let them wonder." He retorted, her dress almost off her body. "I don't know how anyone can expect me to plan a war with you looking like this so close to me." He didn't miss her smile as he finally pulled her dress off, revealing her body to him.

His wife sighed blissfully as he ran his hands down her body, drinking in the sight of her. "We should still – " she moaned loudly as he pulled, hard, on one of her rosy nipples " – be getting back soon." Her voice grew far weaker as his lips closed around her breast, and all arguments ceased as he massaged the other one with a large hand. He continued for a few minutes, her moans growing louder, until he abruptly pulled away. She glared at him sharply, disappointment and longing clear in her eyes, but he merely smiled as he moved further down the bed.

"You're right, we definitely should be heading back. They will all be wondering where we've disappeared to." He suddenly shifted her underwear and licked between her folds in one swift move of his tongue, immensely enjoying the shudder that wracked her body.

"Oh gods – I suppose we can afford to stay a little while longer."

**OoOoO**

He only heard the stories after, from the men who had seen her. Immediately after dismounting from Drogon after the battle, she had demanded to know where he was, for them to take her to her king. Once told that he could not be found, they claimed she had fallen to her knees and screamed loud enough for every soldier to hear across the battlefield. It was said she had stayed there for until darkness, with only her dragons allowed to stay with her, waiting for her King to return.

But he did not know any of that when, blood and dirt still clinging to him, he and a dozen men had arrived at the camp at daybreak the next morning, far later than any other group. He had seen only a glimpse of his family's smiles and heard the shouting of his men, before he was drawn to the sight of silver hair and violet eyes as she walked towards him slowly. When she reached him, she cradled his face in her hands and gazed up at him, as though memorising every inch of his face, before wrapping her arms around his stomach. Kissing her head as he felt her tears leak through his shirt onto his chest, he barely heard her quiet words of greeting.

"It was cold without you here."

**OoOoO**

_Hope you enjoyed, until next time!_


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm sooooo sorry this has taken so long, these last few weeks have been hectic and I genuinely have had no time to write since my A Levels began! I hope everyone is good and having a nice September, and here's a new chapter for you amazing GOT fans._

**OoOoO**

**Prompt: Sick**

"Your Grace, are you certain you do not need a maester?" Tryion asked gently. Daenerys knew her skin was far paler than usual and most likely tinged grey, and quickly attempted cover her shivering. Even in the North, she had never been cold, and the sweat forming on her brow was even more unusual.

"I'm fine Tyrion," she murmured, her voice far more unsteady than she had wanted it to sound. Noticing Ser Jorah and Lady Catelyn's faces blanch in concern, she fought to regain more control over herself. "When will Robb be back?" It was only when the Lady of Winterfell repressed a smile that Daenerys realised her mistake.

"His Grace," Catelyn said, placing a barely noticeable emphasis on her son's title, "should return just after nightfall. The Lannisters have retreated even further South than we anticipated – with the help of your armies and, er, dragons." Even with her head swimming, the Queen smiled at the elder woman's stuttering.

"That's good," she mumbled quietly, ignoring the worry in Tyrion's eyes deepen. She reached for her wine glass but knocked it over clumsily, flinching at the loud bang echoing throughout the room as it clattered to the floor. Theon Greyjoy, the closest person to her, quickly bent to retrieve it and passed it back to her. As their fingers touched, the young man stared at her in shock and concern, pulling his hand back as though burned.

"You need to rest." It was strange, watching him look back at her with genuine emotion. Though Robb had ordered him to serve her as he would the King in the North, she had always suspected he did not care for her or her presence in Riverrun. "Don't try arguing," he warned as she opened her mouth to refuse, "you've got a fever and you're shaking like a leaf. Someone get the maester."

"No." Catelyn rebutted. "I'll make sure she's alright. Would you help me take her to her chambers?" She turned to Messandei, who nodded immediately and approached Daenerys. She scowled ever so slightly at the two women and stood without help defiantly, only to grasp the table for support as she wobbled. She glared sharply at Theon, who hid his laughs in a coughing fit as he avoided her gaze.

"Don't tell Robb about this." She hissed at him and he shot her a confused stare as the people around them were shooed from the room. "I do not want him to be concerned when he should be celebrating a victory." She barely registered Tyrion assuring lords and advisors that the Queen was merely feeling ill and the meeting would be resumed when she was well and the King had returned.

"He's your betrothed, he should know." Theon retorted, but she held his gaze with her violet one until he looked away in defeat. "Fine, I won't tell him."

"You swear it?"

"Yes." He said honestly, and Daenerys sighed in relief as she allowed Messandei and Catelyn to escort her from the room.

**OoOoO**

"You didn't need to do this, my lady." Daenerys murmured, the cool cloth on her forehead soothing as Lady Catelyn's image swam above her. The Lady of Winterfell had sent Messandei away after requesting herbs and hot water for tea, leaving only the two women in Daenerys' chambers.

"Nonsense." Catelyn replied with a smile, stirring more leaves into the cup. "I never allowed maesters or nurses to care for my children when they were sick, and you will one day bare the name Stark." She placed the cup beside Daenerys' bed and reached for her hand, holding it between both of hers. "I know I am not your mother and your marriage will be one of convenience, but I know you care for my son, and Starks protect one another." Dany smiled gently at the woman before her, too afraid to tell her the truth – that she did not know how to be protected, because no one before Robb had ever tried.

Instead her violet eyes met blue ones, and she said softly, "your family is lucky to have you, my lady. You are truly unique."

Catelyn stood gently and returned the smile. "You must rest, Your Grace. The King will return soon, sleep until his arrival." Dany bid her goodbye and closed her eyes, asleep before the door closed softly.

**OoOoO**

Daenerys was woken abruptly by the sounds of shouting from outside her chambers. She could hear Ser Jorah and Lady Catelyn's raised voices, and Missandei's much calmer voice was barely audible above the shouting. There was another man's voice, one Dany's foggy mind took a moment to recognise at Robb's. One last echo of his voice sounded through the walls before silence fell outside. The blonde woman sat up in bed, fighting a smile as the door opened quietly and her betrothed's face appeared in the doorway.

He stared at her intently for a moment and she took the time to assess his condition; he had not stopped to wash before coming to visit her, and his pale skin and reddish hair was barely visible beneath a layer of blood and dirt. As he carefully closed the door behind him and drew closer, she breathed out a sigh when she saw no signs of a major injury. She returned her gaze to his eyes as he approached her bed, an unreadable expression on his face. "We Won."

Dany felt a small tugging at her lips at his blunt introduction. "If we hadn't, you would be dead." She suddenly frowned, remembering the argument that had occurred before his departure. "I should have been there."

"No, you shouldn't." Robb snapped, though his voice lacked the hard edge it often contained nowadays. "We had everything under control and you were needed here. Besides," He paused, eyes running over her messy hair and no doubt pitiful appearance, "you did not exactly get better after I left."

Dany felt her anger rising as she took a deep breath. "Theon told you." _I am going to murder Greyjoy._

He nodded curtly. "Let me in." He requested suddenly, pulling up a corner of her sheets. She stared at him in surprise and he snorted a laugh. "Someone will clean the mud off your sheets. I missed you."

Daenerys budged up obligingly, a small warmth spreading down her chest as he stripped his shirt off and climbed into bed next to her, his warmth a welcome presence as his arm pulled her closer to his body. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply, murmuring his next words so quietly that Daenerys barely heard.

"Why did you not want me to know you were unwell?"

Despite the sudden stiffness of her shoulders, she forced herself to pull herself up onto her arm, internally cursing both Theon and the man before her. "Because you victory was more important – I didn't want to ruin that for you."

Robb pulled a face, clearly not believing her obvious lies. "Your health is more important than drinking myself into a stupor with the Northern armies." He turned his head towards the ceiling and stared upwards for a few minutes, his slow breathing relaxing Daenerys until he offhandedly remarked, "being ill does not make you weak Dany."

She glared at him sharply, but his gaze remained fixed on the stone above them. "I did not say that it did."

"But you do believe it." He finally looked back at her, too many emotions in his eyes for Daenerys to pinpoint them all. "I know that you do not like to look weak in front of most people, but I thought you knew by now that I don't think of you as that at all."

"I do know that." Dany snapped, unnerved by the direction the conversation had taken.

"Then why didn't you want me to know?"

"Because… because I don't like the way you treat me when you think I need your protection!" Daenerys cursed her stupidity as soon as she blurted the words out, hating the flash of hurt that crossed Robb's face as he began to pull away. "Perhaps dislike is the wrong word. I do not understand it."

Her betrothed's eyes softened slightly at her embarrassed confession. "We are to be married, is it so unlikely that I would be concerned when you are unwell?" He held up a hand as she began to speak. "I understand that other people in your life have not behaved in the same way, but Starks are raised to protect and care for each other." He smiled gently, and Daenerys felt a flush spread across her face and chest at his words.

"I thought you did not trust me to take care of myself." She avoided his gaze as her fears were finally voiced.

"Of course I do! You're the strongest person that I know." Robb's voice did not waver as he spoke. "But you're only one person and I am to be your husband, I don't like the idea of you feeling like you must cope alone."

Dany smiled shyly up at the King in the North. "Thank you, Robb, that is kind of you."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her in response, and she lay her head against his chest, his strong heartbeat soothing her. "Go to sleep Daenerys, we will talk more later." She felt his lips press gently against the crown of her head and she pressed herself even closer to him in response, the dirt now covering them both forgotten as she kissed the warm chest below her.

**OoOoO**

_Until next time!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: This is so short … but oh well._

**OoOoO**

**Prompt: We Won**

My Queen." For the first time since setting eyes on Robb's body, I looked up into the eyes of Jon Snow; despite the colour difference between the brothers' eyes, both held - _had held_ \- the same warmth and kindness that I could not bear to gaze back at, not anymore. "You need to let him go."

"I can't." I didn't recognise this voice, this broken whisper I had never heard before.

"You have to." Jon knelt before me, his icy hands gripping my own. "We won, My Queen, the Iron Throne is yours. Your people await you."

I glared back at him hatefully; despite my undoubtably bleak appearance, he still cringed back from my stare. "They will wait until I tell them otherwise. The King in the North is dead."

Jon only nodded and stood, holding his hand out for me to take. I gazed down one last time at Robb, the small smile still etched onto his face. It was such a peaceful picture, I almost could have imagined him to be sleeping.

I had never told him, not even after four years of companionship. He had never told me either - at least, not outright, though he had murmured it when he thought me to be asleep. It was foolish, getting so taught up in the game of thrones that we lost sight out what truly mattered. I brushed my lips across his as I had so many times before, and, in the cautious warmth of dawn, I could almost imagine his lips to be warm against mine, for his breath to fan against my face as I whispered against his ear. "I love you."

I stood quickly, unable to bare the inevitable stillness of his face. He would never know. I turned to Jon, who bowed deeply with tears in his own eyes. He unsheathed his sword one last time and held it high above him. "The King in the North!" The cry echoed loudly throughout the field where Robb lay, and I felt a pang in my heart where the North had taken root, a longing to join Jon's cry as he continued to shout, tears streaming down his cheeks and his bade his brother farewell for a final time.

But I couldn't. I gave Jon a last moment with his brother as I crept into the forest surrounding the battlefield. I knew they would come looking soon; they would have to, they could not lose their Queen after such an awful battle. "But they can wait." I murmured to the wind, wishing it could breathe a semblance of guidance into my ear as I passed through the trees. A cold numbness spread through my veins. I had expected losses during the battle, but somehow had not prepared myself for this one.

Joffrey was dead. But if Robb was too, what did it matter?

**OoOoO**

_A/N: Let me know what you think!_


End file.
